Vultures
by zombiegirl6066
Summary: A short introduction to an apocalyptic society. Instead of calling the undead, corpses, she gives them a new name, which serves them well. Short.


This land was not ours to begin with. I despise founders like Christopher Columbus and our Four Fathers. They corrupted our minds into thinking that everything could be changed to our likings. I definitely do not support any ideas that the human society configured. I'm not even sure if supporting religion is a very wise idea. The world isn't fair. Our choices define who we are, but we aren't perfect. What do we have that other animals don't? A soul? A choice of perspective? Either way, we design certain aspects. Just by considering this, am I losing my own rationality?

I have so many questions for my new world, or new nightmare, that no one is able to answer. The only creatures that exist seem to be nature's gift, and walking corpses that act as vultures to the presently living. My life reminds me of a time bomb. I only have a limited time to live, when that timer sounds, my mind will go blank and kill my own people.

I bet the Four Fathers didn't have the Apocalypse in mind while creating our Christianity based society. The only argument that I can't win is the Bible. In other words, everything that happened in the Bible, so far, was proven to appear in the real world. In the Bible, Isaiah 26:19, it stated, "Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise. You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy! For your dew is a dew of light, and the earth will give birth to the dead." That's just pleasant. He didn't mention that the humans that were left behind were going to be eaten alive by the once breathing and talking. He didn't mention that everyone was just going to be lost without hope, dwelling in the present. It is hard to believe in the Lord's justice when hell brought its last demons to rot in our presence. Our friends, family, coworkers, followers will gradually decay into a bleak mound of nothingness. Fuck, there was no way that I wanted to become one of them. Was this really what God had planned for me? Did He really desire full-fledged punishment for his imperfect creations? Did He really regret that we were ever brought into his world? That's what I wanted to believe in something happier, or more believable, and hopeful. His predictions served no purpose but to panic. I just didn't want to consider the inevitable. His gift to us were the fucking vultures; the rise of the undead. Unlike any other Atheist, I tend to do my research. Good thing I tended it when the dead were still sleeping in their graves.

Our vultures picked at every living human. What else was new? Just like watching the news on television three years ago, I know it doesn't seem like a long time, but, to me, it seemed like a lifetime ago. I lost my family in the blink of an eye. I listened to live reports performed by true morons. They introduced names of cold-blooded killers. They told their viewers to call the police hotline if they were seen in public. What was ironic about that fact was that the killers had a better chance of survival in this world, today. They had the decency to kill a breathing soul, while it took me all of my strength to kill a silent one. The news, back then, was complete bullshit. They hid what was truly going on, and then waited until it was too late to let the world know that it was, soon, coming to a sheer halt.

I watched my best friend cover my ass until she was devoured by a full flock of vultures. By the way, Vultures was the name that I gave them. Everyone else in the production business called them 'Zombies', or, like that television show that was ironically a prediction of the new world, "The Walking Dead.' Other people called them, "Corpses." That name was simple enough. I used it occasionally, but it, still, didn't provide the right definition of their existence. A corpse lay in a grave. We mourned a corpse of our family, or more. What we have now is way different. No one expressed any sympathy toward the vultures. Everyone thrived to slay the heads of every vulture walking on this planet. Some dared to hide away in their homes, and wait out the Apocalypse. Some gave up and ended their lives quickly. Maybe that was the best way out, committing suicide? It provided an easier escape. The ones who did, did not experience anymore fear or remorse. They didn't have to hide away any longer. They no longer desired to run. They didn't have to worry about whether or not they were going to survive the next day, or if they were going to watch the next sunrise. The only downfall of suicide was that hope no longer existed. Once the last human is consumed by fear the undead will rot away, with nothing left to devour. In other words, the inevitable will win. I can't let that happen.

While I was watching the news one day, and eating a bowl of Cheerios, I remembered thinking that I was invincible to danger. The way my mother and father taught me to live was utterly ignorant. I was a mere drone compared to the dangers that surrounded me. Every single day people died of incurable diseases, car crashes, and dumb ass decisions such as consuming alcohol. I'm not going to lie, but I enjoyed the occasional consumption of beer poison, myself. I would like to assume that they had no idea what was really going on. It wasn't until the first initial broadcast of the vultures existence that I freaked out.


End file.
